When David Kariuki was leaving his former workplace in 2002 he told Betty Wekesa, who also worked in the advertising department, “By the way, you, one day I will marry you.” Betty laughed out loud. She had this characteristic loud laughter. The type you want to join in. They were standing outside in the street, at the entrance of the building. He had been checking her out for a while, but you know how it is when you work with a chick you like? You try keep it under your hat. Besides, Betty wasn’t keen on or even aware of his affection. He found her very fetching. Like his mom, she had a gap between her teeth that he absolutely loved. And then there was her laughter. After laughing at his marriage prediction she said, “You? Ai, never. You Kikuyus aren’t romantic enough.” Those were early days. He hadn’t started calling himself “The Duke of Gatanga” on Twitter, an aspiring ranch owner.

He started a new job at Marshalls East Africa. They lost touch. A year or so later he rung her and they had coffee. He took her to a ka-joint where Four Points By Sheraton now sits. It was called Kwality Bar and restaurant, or something. Two months later they had another date at Kwality, a longer date this time. They did lunch twice in CBD. They then went on a third proper date, lunch in town followed by an evening at Kwality. (I guess you could say David was a Kwality time kinda guy). Betty was thawing under his charm and he kept his foot on the gas pedal. While picking up her purse at the end of one of their dates, she said, “You are not such a bad guy after all. It’s a bit late for you to go all the way back home [he lived in Thika], do you want to come back to my place?” He heard the angels sing. Really, he did. He answered “Yes!” very quickly before she changed her mind.

They started dating. He really liked her. Her heart was always in the right place. She was loving and fun to be around and she filled him with that laughter of hers. What else do you do; when it’s right it’s right, right? So he proposed to her. She said yes. On May 30th, 2008, he slipped a ring on her finger at their wedding in Karen and she became Mrs Betty Wekesa Ndung’u. David says, “That night I told her, ‘Didn’t I tell you that I would marry you one day?’ and she laughed out loud – that laughter of hers.”.

What happens when people get married? They either buy a toaster or they start making a baby. Since they already had a toaster, they started making a baby. They tried for a year but nothing happened. Then they tried for another year and nothing happened. He really put his back into it, literally and figuratively, nothing. It then occurred to them that there was a problem.

“Did you, at some point, think that perhaps you were shooting blanks?” I ask.

He says indignantly, “Of course not! It never crossed my mind.”

We laugh.

“Of course it never did, how could it have?” I chide. “You’re a man. No man thinks it could be them.”

They started seeing specialists. They saw a handful, all giving different diagnoses. They gave him iron tablets and sperm boosters. They gave her dozens of supplements. Then they tried again. Nothing. They saw more specialists, maybe nine of them in total, and they were given more supplements and more hope and they kept trying and finally one specialist told them that her ova were not getting to full maturity, which meant that by the time they met the sperms they could not fertilize.

“Oh, so it wasn’t a problem with your sperm,” I say.

“Oh, no. Mine were very active, they still are,” he says laughing. At our table also sits Ronnie, the editor-in-chief at Futaa.com. He had come to pick a copy of my book from the office and we had decided to have tea downstairs. I had invited him to sit in the interview later, to see how the sausage is made.

They tried Intrauterine Insemination (IUI) which involved synchronising her ovulation calendar and then physically inserting his sperm in her. It set them back some 350K. It failed. They gathered more funds over months and did a second one and it, too, failed. That’s almost a meter in the ground so they decided to chill because they had no more money to spend.

“How did that affect your relationship?” I ask him. “Was it ever like an elephant in the room?”

“It was unspoken. We rarely spoke about it. But there was frustration for sure, frustration in trying and failing consistently. Financial frustrations that came with it. Frustration in going to parties and seeing other people’s children running around, children that belonged to people who got married after you. But there was never any blame involved, I wouldn’t even say that it affected our marriage. We were in it together, that’s how it felt. But there’s some sense of insecurity on the woman’s part when she’s the one with the problem, especially now that we were like five years into the marriage and no baby. There was societal pressure, subtle, but there. For instance we would go to a function and someone would ask, ‘What are you guys waiting for?’ I’d tell them, ‘We are still on happy hour, guys.’”

“What’s happy hour?”

“It’s that ka-time after the wedding when you guys are just chilling, enjoying yourselves until you are ready for kids.”

Ronnie chuckles at that. Ronnie is not married so he would find that amusing.

In June 2004, when they took a stab at another procedure, it cost them a cool half a million bob. (I have never known why people refer to lots of money as “a cool.”) This time round they did a procedure where fertilisation is done outside the woman’s body, in a lab, and the product is transferred into the woman’s body.

A month after the procedure they did a pregnancy test and guess what, they were pregnant! He was over the moon and over Saturn and Jupiter and he was bouncing off walls. The next couple of months he walked while whistling under his breath. He smiled at strangers. When he saw a child he rubbed his hair playfully. He called them “son,” or “sweetheart.” He went online and read websites on the development of babies. He dreamed of cute naked babies with double chins tickling his undersoles with a feather. (I’ve made this one up, bear with me). He felt like God had finally listened to him. Like God was his homeboy, his wingman. He was grateful to Him and to modern science. Mornings were suddenly brighter and full of promise. The air smelled good. He was going to be a father! He couldn’t even wrap his head around that concept. Would he now be expected to wear trousers with turn-ups? Would he have to own more coats? Would he have to learn how to fix the sink, because isn’t that what fathers are good for? (Apart from scaring away the thief?)

But God wasn’t done.

Three months later they discover they are expecting triplets.

Triplets!

As in, three shundrens!

They wanted one baby but God said, “Aii, we have to replicate Betty’s beautiful laughter so that we can have three children with that laughter filling the world with mirth, so have an extra two.” But they are also scared because Betty has a small body and they wonder if three lito people with big heads can fit in there, eating and moving and yawning and kicking and fist pumping. But Betty is a trooper. They buy baby stuff. In threes. Weeks fall off the calendar. They get to 36th week and they are all packed to go see the doctor in the 37th week. They have booked a bed at Aga Khan, forms are filled, the overnight delivery bag is ready by the foot of the bed and Betty is heavy, yes, she rolls around like a walrus, yes, but she is fine and she is happy and he is happy and they are happy.

One Tuesday evening a couple, their friends, come over to visit them at their digs in Nyayo Estate. He sees them off. They watch some late-night TV under duvets because Betty’s feet would get cold. They brush their teeth and get into bed. He switches off the light. He falls asleep with his hand on her belly. If you have a child you will know that feeling of placing your hand on your pregnant woman’s belly – it’s tight and stretched like a traditional drum- and it’s a great feeling to feel your child kick therein once in a while, as if to say, “Stop holding my mummy! You made her nose big and she eats soil all the time. You have done enough, let go of her, let my mummy sleep!” It’s a special feeling especially because you can’t believe that you, small insignificant you, who can’t even cut his nails properly, made a human being with eyes and ankles! That you are going to be a father and you don’t even know the half of it. You feel so unworthy to raise another human being. When Tamms was an infant and she looked at me I thought she could tell I was clueless and that I was planning to just wing it with her.

When he wakes up with a start, the lights are on and Betty is pacing up and down. She’s saying, “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe!” It’s just after 1am, according to the bedside clock. He jumps out of bed. She walks out of the bedroom, into the living room where she paces up and down catching her breath. He runs to the kitchen to get a glass of water while he calls the doctor. The doctor says it could be embolism (Oh, I know this bastard, it killed my mother), that she needs to come to the hospital immediately. Can they come to Aga Khan? “No, we live in Nyayo,” he says, carrying the water into the sitting room, “can we meet at Mater? Sawa. Mater it is. I’m rushing there now.”

He steps on red vomit. She has been vomiting blood. He finds her slouched on the couch, foaming at the mouth. He panics. He dashes out of the house, taking three stairs at a time, bangs on a neighbour’s door downstairs. The neighbour opens the door squinting. My wife doesn’t look so good. They rush up. The neighbour has a contact with Kenya Red Cross, who dispatches an ambulance. On the couch, Betty is lying on her side, listless. The neighbour performs CPR. In 12 minutes the guys from Red Cross burst into the room. Two gentlemen. They come bearing equipment, those medical things that look important, and they try to resuscitate her using these important looking machines. He looks at what’s going on like he’s watching ER. At one point, one of the chaps, a medic, feels her pulse and his finger stays on her wrist for a while, and while still holding her hand he looks up at David and their eyes lock momentarily and David sees something in the man’s eyes, and suddenly he feels his whole world crack under his feet and he just knows.

His wife is dead. The realisation is short and heavy and intense and it grabs his throat, cutting off air. His wife is gone. Gone with the beautiful gap between her teeth. Gone with her wonderful laughter.

“I just knew from his look that Betty had died,” he says.

Ronnie folds his hands across his chest, as if a chill just came over him. At this point I’m thinking; shit, how does God pick who gets the rotten cards?

But they had the babies to think of.

“They had a stretcher, these guys from Red Cross,” David continues, “and getting my wife’s body on it was difficult because she was heavy, maybe 90-plus kilograms. But we heaved her on it. I don’t remember if I helped or they did it alone. I honestly don’t recall much at this point. But I remember the difficulty of going down the narrow staircase with her heavy body on it. The Red Cross guys were rushing down it seems, like there was a chance of saving my babies. I don’t remember the drive to Mater.”

He says it takes about eight minutes to save babies after the death of the mother. They take over 15 minutes to get into Mater. At the Emergency unit they place her on a table. A doctor checks her airways and vitals then turns to him and tells him, “I’m so sorry, she’s no longer with us.” She’s wearing a brown deera. He stares at her feet, the ones that were cold earlier in the evening when they were watching TV. They wheel her into an adjacent windowless holding room of sorts. “All the while I was numb, but when I saw her being wheeled into that room I started crying,” he says, then pauses. He looks away. “I really cried at that point.”

“What are you wearing at this time?” I ask him.

“I’m in my sleeping shorts and a t-shirt.”

“Do they have pockets?” I ask.

He gives me a strange look. I don’t know why I ask that, to be honest. But I want to picture him. I want to know where his hands are, is he hugging himself? Are his hands in his pockets? How cold is it? The cold of loss and the cold of 2:46am. Is the moon out? What can he smell? He doesn’t remember if they had pockets but he remembers that he had her phone which had died when he was calling her people from it. He had his phone too and he called his sister, her best buddy, tried calling her sister, told his own sister to tell his mom that Betty had died and they were at Mater. He makes these calls tearfully, standing before that small church at Mater, holding onto the railings. It’s a church I know too well, I saw my brother cry in there a few times when my mom was hanging on a string in HDU some eight years ago. It’s a church where hope and grief sit on the same side of the pew.

His best buddy showed up and took charge. He’s called Peter Maingi, and he’s a Clinical Officer at KNH. He took him to the cops to report the death. Then he took him back home in the small hours of the morning. The house help opened the door with a smile, thinking that perhaps he had good news of the baby’s birth given that she had slept through the commotion of the previous night. He walked right past her and into their bedroom. His bedroom now.

The lights were still on. The room smelled of her. The room felt like her. The room still had her heat. Pieces of her clothing, pieces of herself dotted the room because bedrooms ideally belong to the wives. We just keep our socks there. Her sandals were at the foot of the bed, on her side. There was a cup on her bedside table. The cord of her charger ran from the socket. Her flat pregnancy shoes were by the wardrobe, with one of its doors half open. He looked around the room, like a stranger. He stared at her side of the bed, a rumpled bed sheet, the space where she had slept a few hours back, taking her shape. The pillow, depressed under with the shape of her head, was thrust against the headboard. His lips trembled and he bit them. His eyes got misty.

He walked over and slipped into the side of the bed that belonged to his dead wife. He slipped into the shape of her 90kgs, six of which belonged to his three children, now dead. Children he would never meet. He would never take them to school, or colour with then. Fatherhood had become a mirage. He slipped into his dead wife’s shape, placed his head on the depression of her own head in the pillow. It smelled of her hair, of her face. And there, waves upon waves of grief, deep hungry grief, beat him and ate at him and as exhaustion took over his body and mind and sleep stole him, he wondered how he would ever be the same again, not even as a man but as a human being.

When he woke up, sunlight was beating through the window, but it didn’t feel bright. Because you can be in sunlight but still be in darkness. The light overhead was still burning. He heard voices in the next room- his relatives and her relatives and neighbours and people who had been called by loss. They were voices of sorrow, low voices because death lowers our voices. He didn’t want to get up. He wanted to lie there until he was old, until he also died and joined his wife and his three children. He didn’t want anyone opening that door. He wanted to lie in this bedroom that had become an incubator of pain and hopelessness.

There was this prayer he had written on the third month of their pregnancy. It was a prayer for a safe pregnancy. He had read it throughout the pregnancy. The first thing (and the only thing) he did when he got off the bed was to tear it up.

“I hated God,” he says. “I questioned him. I mean, I have prayed for children, begged you for them, and then you have made me wait for eight years to give me, not one, or two, but three children.” He pauses. “Then you keep these children for all these months and then just a few days to delivery you decide that, you know what David, you don’t deserve these children. I thought to myself, you know what, this guy [God] is a joker. He was never serious about helping me. He was playing with me and in the cruellest of ways; taking my wife and even my children. If he didn’t want me to have those children, if I was not deserving of them, he should have at least left me my wife.”

He didn’t leave the bedroom the entire day. He went back and slept on his wife’s side. But when he finally came out in his shorts and he started grieving, he hated it when people told him, “It is well.” He absolutely hated it. “How do you know it is well?” he asks me. “Have you lost a wife and three kids? How can you say it is well? I think the only person who can say it is well is me and I can only say it when I feel it is well right here,” he points at his heart.

He was only 37-years old then (now he’s 40), and a widower. (“There is no age to be a widower. As long as your are married you are a potential candidate for the widower slot,” he says.)

I want to ask him if he saw his children but I’m so conflicted about it. On one hand it feels so intrusive and on the other hand, the parent in me doesn’t want to know. It fills me with dread. I really don’t want to know because I’m also burdened as it were with this story and honestly, I want to finish it and go away. I don’t want to burden him with those horrible memories but I’m also anxious for it to stay in my head and infect me with fear as a father.

“Did you ever see your children?” I finally ask him, secretly hoping that he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. But he does.

He did. He saw them. Two days after the death. Chief Government pathologist – Dr Johansen Oduor – asked him if he wanted to see his children. “Are you very sure?” he asked him. His children were in a room. He left everybody else outside and went in alone. He tiptoed in. The room was so cold. His babies were placed on a table with a lime green cover. Two girls and one boy. The boy was between his sisters. They were naked. They each weighed around 1.8kgs. They had small feet and cheeks and small hands folded in small fists. They could have been asleep.

“Imani, Keith and Neema,” he says in a new voice that he hasn’t been speaking in.

I glance over at Ronnie, he’s staring at him like he’s superhuman. I hope he doesn’t continue, I hope he stops there. I don’t want to hear anymore about these children. But he doesn’t.

“I stood there for maybe 15 minutes hoping that they would jolt to life and start crying and I could take them home.”

We sit in a very brief silence that could have quickly gotten awkward.

“Did you touch them?” I ask.

“No. You know us Kikuyus don’t even view bodies that much. But these were my children, I had to see them. Even during burials coffins always remain closed.”

“Us we view, sometimes leave the coffin open.” I say, then I look at Ronnie and say, “Ronnie, what tribe are you, by the way?” He says Luhya.

“I remember that they were light-skinned, like my wife. She was light-skinned,” he continues, then adds with a mischievous look, “but mostly I remember how good looking they were, just like I am.”

We laugh at that. We laugh at death. And it feels good. It’s a f*k you to death and the ugliness the world brings.

His wife and children were buried in Gatanga, his shags. They were buried in the same coffin. One child was placed on his wife’s chest and the other two in the crook of each arm. Sleep tight, angels.

Why am I fascinated by these stories of pain and grief, I have been asked many times. I think it’s because I want to know how far down a human being can plunge, how below rock bottom we can go before we rise again. I want a glimpse at the fighting spirit of man. I want to be assured that whatever shit life throws our way, we can rise, we can triumph. I want to see humans rise and triumph.

And the Duke of Gatanga rose. Gradually. One day at a time. It was difficult, ghosts filled his days and he felt his heart pump pain, but he rose.

“Grief for me was an extreme emotion, the very end of hell,” he says. “Your head is heavy. You have questions. You cry a lot. You, (pause) I don’t know. You’re just…lost in space…in thoughts, [pause]…in everything.” His best buddy, Maingi, was there for him. Always.

“For a while he moved into my house, for a week, in fact, until the day we buried,” he says. “He’s married with children but he knew that I was useless standing on my own two feet, so he moved in and he somehow took care of stuff I couldn’t until I was strong enough to face life on my own. And during this time he didn’t say much, we would just sit in silence, we didn’t even drink. Just TV and silence.”

“That’s the coolest stuff I have heard today,” I tell him. “Right, Ronnie?” Ronnie says, “Very.” You know those guys you ask something and they say “very”? That’s Ronnie.

“Si today is cold?”

“Very.”

“Kwani jana you slept early how?”

“Very.”

[Peter Maingi, if you are reading this huko at KNH, you deserve a big trophy, one of those elephants that curiomakers carve in maasai market. That and a bottle of your favourite.]

What do you do with your dead wife’s clothes and stuff? Do you give them away and when? I ask David.

“They were in my house for two years. I never touched them. We had lots of baby stuff, clothes and lots and lots of diapers and shoes. Many! I just didn’t want to give them to anyone, I didn’t want to dump them in a children’s home and leave. I wanted to give them to someone who would appreciate them for their taste – my wife had very good taste in clothes. I gave them away in pieces, one at a time.” He never moved out of their house because, well, he owns it. The house is now rid of her stuff, but there is a pair of earrings he still hangs onto. And the first X-ray scan that showed the triplets.

He joined a group of other widowers. Yes, widowers have a whatsapp Group. He’s in one called Brothers. They talk about grief, adjustments and everything that comes with loss of a spouse. They share experiences and challenges like family, healing, dating and things: When do you introduce your kids to a woman? What do you do if your kids like her more than you do or you like her but your kids hate her? Things like that.

“How long should one wait after the death of a spouse before they start dating?” I ask him. “Because you can start too soon and guys are like, aii, Duke of Gatanga, yaani you couldn’t wait?”

He laughs. “Funny you should ask, I used to have a neighbour who lived across from us, a lady, she must have been 52, or something, as soon as we buried she started inviting me for dates and stuff. Of course I know when it’s more than an innocent date, but she was relentless, man,” he laughs. “You get a lot of women – some of who knew your wife – wanting something. They offer to come help in the house or want to feed you. Some are too forward others not so much.”

“Are you seeing someone now?” I ask. Mostly because I’m nosy. Because really it doesn’t matter. But I’m sure you guys also want to know. Stop pretending. You do.

“I am.”

“Does she have a gap between her teeth?”

“No,” he laughs. “But she also has a big laugh, just not so pronounced.”

“How do you make sure that when you are dating you don’t go looking for your dead wife in these women?”

He pauses. I like when people pause when I ask them a question. It means I have asked a good question.

“It’s a tad difficult.” He sighs. “It’s difficult, even though I try and seek the good and the uniqueness of an individual.”

“Does your current chick ask about your departed wife?”

“No, she doesn’t,” he says.

He wants to get married and have children one day and if his wife lets him keep the wedding band that he now wears on a finger in his right hand, he will. He says grief doesn’t get better but it gets easier to handle. You have to learn to wake up daily and face life, he says, even on days you don’t want to. You learn different ways of getting off the bed. Some days are harder than others, but you get up. Then it gets better. You meet new people. You make plans.

He still thinks of the children. They would have been three today. He would be picking them from school. Driving him crazy with toys all over the house. Some days he thinks of his late wife’s laughter. But the thoughts are not as dark as they used to be. Some days are tough, but most days not so tough.

I ask Ronny to ask him one question. He asks something about lessons.

“Appreciate what you have when you have it,” he tells Ronnie. “Anyone can go at any time, without warning, so appreciate anything and everything and let them know. Say you love them, show them that you genuinely love them, appreciation is very important.”

“Ronnie,” I say, “in short he’s saying just marry that chic and stop this dilly dallying.” The Duke of Gatanga laughs and says, “What chick, Ronnie?”

This is a sad story. It’s one that transcends across any heart in a human being.This story speaks volume about how men and women really behave: to say how we experience grief, how we love and how we rage(sometimes at God), how we fail, how we retreat, start all over again and how we overcome.And all the stories i have read, we all seem to share one thing in common irregardless of what social class we hold: ability to maintain hope for a brighter morning – even during our darkest nights.

This story is so painful but educative. Loosing a loved one is never easy I have lost a nephew I adopted from my sister and till now I have never gotten over it. Biko you are a legend in telling stories and writing. May God bless Duke of Gatanga for sharing

This made me cry… Fatherhood is a like a paradox feeling.. U don’t want to show u’re happy then when it leaves u just fall to pieces coz u really really loved them
I could feel the sad part coming when Biko was celebrating the triplets… I was like “This is gonna hurt… And its gonna hurt real BAD”
WELL DONE, BIKO. LOVE YOUR WORK AS ALWAYS

I literally held my breath when he first broke the news about the triplets. I was so genuinely happy. I said hi back to David as he whistled across the street with his spirits high. I was happy for him. I crossed my fingers that this is not a sad sorry. That he couldn’t stop showing you pictures of Imani and Neema! That Keith is already feeling overwhelmed by having two sisters! I hang on tightly, but sometimes, the universe doesn’t swing in our favour.
Take heart Dave, take heart ( the second one is more to myself than it is to him because now I’m heart broken too)

Biko, I love the stories you are telling, they are raw, you prod right into people’s emotional and mental space and you share it, it’s Bold writing and you are my favourite blogger. You tell us stories that snap us out of oblivious thinking and have us sizing people up on the street wondering “sasa wewe what’s your life about?”

“Appreciate what you have when you have it,” …….. “Anyone can go at any time, without warning, so appreciate anything and everything and let them know. Say you love them, show them that you genuinely love them, appreciation is very important.”

So sad and sorry to the Duke of Gatanga. But also happy that he could rise beyond the grief and triumph. I love the lesson that “whatever shit life throws our way, we can rise, we can triumph”. Thanks for sharing.

I just left Kenya for my Univeraity in the States with a joke (Super serious promise) to a fellow genius that I call my Migori One #Complex_Syndrome that I will return to marry him. He must have thought very little of my hilarious joke but when he comes here later today just before we review this together, I hope he realises with his humorous genes that it all is going to end in my favour. And gosh shall I not thank the gods and the ancestors for that!!!
But then I read on and kept wondering how far God is willing to take his jokes sometimes.( Just made a mental not to ask Him when I get to heaven. Oh If I get to heaven that is. Better yet I will ask my mum to ask him. That woman sure is going to get to heaven). I’m just wondering though, does he have photos of his beautiful babies? Does he still look for the gaps and the huge laughter?
Otherwise Great Read Biko!

Duke of Gatanga despite everything you’re still alive and can afford to laugh. That should count for something.i wish you all the best in your endevours.i like what he told ronnie,, ‘Appreciation is very important’

I like that you write stories of pain and grief because to me they expose the real human being within the person. Not the CEO, not the guy who drives a V8, not the celeb who always looks glam and freshly made up but the human; flesh and blood. We live in a world where our identity as humans is masked in titles, ideologies etc but grief has a way of shedding off these masks and revealing the raw human being within.

I don’t like it when you bring on sad stories. Especially where children are involved. It kills me from the inside.
But the stories bring up a side of human being so resilient,and willing to pick themselves up.

Why am I fascinated by these stories of pain and grief, I have been asked many times. I think it’s because I want to know how far down a human being can plunge, how below rock bottom we can go before we rise again. I want a glimpse at the fighting spirit of man. I want to be assured that whatever shit life throws our way, we can rise, we can triumph. I want to see humans rise and triumph.

Be anxious for nothing but in everything through prayer & supplication, let your request be made known to God & the peace of God which surpasses all understanding may guide your hearts & minds through Jesus Christ ….. Phillipians 4: 6-7 Take heart the duke of Gatanga & all those mourning

I want to know how far down a human being can plunge, how below rock bottom we can go before we rise again. I want a glimpse at the fighting spirit of man. I want to be assured that whatever shit life throws our way, we can rise, we can triumph. I want to see humans rise and triumph.

“We laugh at that. We laugh at death. And it feels good. It’s a f*k you to death and the ugliness the world brings.”……. Biko man, onions in the office, do you know how many times I had to fake call someone to stop the onion cutting business?

“Life is a surgeon. It wounds, and administers no anaesthetic. It cuts out almost the heart of us sometimes.”
Very. Moving!
I am encouraged though that the Duke of Gatanga is not broken & shattered! He will be a comforter to one who goes through similar. Be a ‘ Peter Maingi’ to someone else.

Biko you are the master of articulating sadness. It was just yesterday that I read ‘They come with cups’ I was hoping it would be a happy story today. You made me cry in an interview today because I had read about the Duke of Gatanga half way. I bet they think I am so passionate about the job haha.
Sad how people go through hardships in life. They say God gives and takes. But at times I think he takes people at a bad time and makes others miserable.

Deep story! sure life is full of uncertainties . We got to live each day with no guarantee of tomorrow.
On this part Biko i take a lesson
I want to know how far down a human being can plunge, how below rock bottom we can go before we rise again. I want a glimpse at the fighting spirit of man. I want to be assured that whatever shit life throws our way, we can rise, we can triumph. I want to see humans rise and triumph.

…I want to know how far down a human being can plunge, how below rock bottom we can go before we rise again. I want a glimpse at the fighting spirit of man. I want to be assured that whatever shit life throws our way, we can rise, we can triumph. I want to see humans rise and triumph…

And humans rise and they triumph.Though it may take a while but it gets better and easier.

He was going to be a father! …………….. Would he now be expected to wear trousers with turn-ups? Would he have to own more coats? Would he have to learn how to fix the sink, because isn’t that what fathers are good for? (Apart from scaring away the thief?)

…… He dreamed of cute naked babies with double chins tickling his under soles with a feather.

This is a very sad story indeed:-( wow Biko you hit me right between the eye.The Duke of Gatanga everything happens for a reason,you might not understand now but eventually you will for God has your back

Such heartbreaking story….looking at your dead child(ren) is something I would never wish anyone go through. I lost my son due to a pre-eclampsia complication 18/03/2014. Slowly you learn to live with the grief and life happens. I have Baraka 3yrs and almost 2 months and Zawadi turned 2yrs, my days are happy and busy and full with these two feisty boys but then i wonder what my older son would have turned out like.

Like my auntie, Maya Angelou says STILL I RISE!
This is something definitely not a story but kudos to Duke of Gitanga for sharing his story!
It is literally raining in my eyes! In awe of Davis’s wealth of experience when grief met him!
Mental health matters, matter!

Duke of Gatanga, he really deserves the name, so much resilience and heart, for him to tell the story even though time has passed, shows a strong heart. Much respect and love to him, and to you Biko for telling the story. Been balancing tears.

I’ve lost my parents and I agree that grief doesn’t get better, only easier. And yes, let’s appreciate people and let them know, life is actually very temporary.
Glad that he is dating again. I wish him God’s blessings.

Here today, gone tomorrow. Witnessing a loved one go into the next world is most humbling and brings out how helpless we are as human beings. One literally survives, not live, one day at a time, one moment at a time. May peace and comfort find you, Duke of Gatanga.

“…Why am I fascinated by these stories of pain and grief, I have been asked many times. I think it’s because I want to know how far down a human being can plunge, how below rock bottom we can go before we rise again. I want a glimpse at the fighting spirit of man. I want to be assured that whatever shit life throws our way, we can rise, we can triumph. I want to see humans rise and triumph.”
We rise, we triumph, because no matter how dark a night is, the sun must rise. Heavy nice read Biko, thank you.

I can relate to the first part of childlessness. We are in the tenth year now and have just about every procedure on assisted reproductive technology on Earth draining every last coin.
The questions are hard and unfortunately very few people can relate or understand what you are going through especially when childbirth to them was natural no fuss. In the end try live your life as much as you can because your problems and situations can take over until you wake up one morning and you are 60 and have no clue what happened in between.

Biko, this is one of the saddest stories I have read in a very long time! I normally skim through stories when they don’t interest me much. I skimmed through this one somewhere in the middle, not because I found it boring, but because I was anxious for a happy ending.

It is unfortunate how things can swiftly move from worse to nightmarish. How Mr. Kariuki got to keep his life and sanity after all he went through is baffling, to say the least. It is hard to hold on to either. I don’t know what I’d do. I guess it’s just fine that way–that I don’t know.

This Story Reminds me of a monologue from my favorite show Greys anatomy.
“They say death is hardest on the living. It’s tough to actually say goodbye. Sometimes it’s impossible. You never really stop feeling the loss. It’s what makes things so bitter sweet. We leave little bits of ourselves behind, little reminders. A lifetime of memories, photos, trinkets. Things to remember us by even when were gone”
“I think it’s important to take the time to tell the people you love how much you love them while they can still hear you.”

And this is to say that even as you shed tears while your heart tears apart, there’s a part where healing surfaces and a smiles resurface upon faces. The rage encompassed in your dashed hopes become of age and you rise to find a new compass, a new direction. Your life doesn’t lock, watch the clock and do what it does, Keep moving.

Peter Maingi, I salute you.
True friendship and the love of The Duke’s family is something I am thankful for, from this story, through the tears.
May Betty, Imani, Neema and Keith rest with the angels, always. ❤️

I can literally swear that ths is the saddest thing i have read in my breathing days.
How does one get through ths?,how did he do it? Will i ever blame him for being faithless?
Waaaah i just kent.
Pain pain and pain

When I started reading this I didn’t know what to expect. I’ll be honest and say I was waiting for something very bad to happen. And it’s your fault, Biko. Your stories rarely have ‘and they lived happily thereafter’. But those are for fairy tales, no?
Very, very sad story. I just hope that the Duke finally heals, if it’s possible.

It’s a church where hope and grief sit on the same side of the pew.
Deep!!!
Reading this on Wednesday morning (yesterday was a crazy day) and I’m all sob sob sob
Now I’ll go all red eyed to work.
Biko, I love how you reach deep down to our emotions and let us face our sorrows.
And give us hope…..

I shed tears coz of this. reminded me of my grandpas demise. how we almost lost our mama to pressure, her frustrations all through. God is always faithful no matter what. Hope the duke finally healed. Peter Maingi, God be with you always.

It is true. Grief doesn’t get better but it gets easier to handle. You have to learn to wake up daily and face life, even on days you don’t want to. My boy would be 4 in November and I still hold on to some of his stuff and I still cry for him and more so after reading this piece.

Great story, I always wonder how you coin all these stories to keep us glued all through. Good stuff Biko.
Just a concern though: he met her 2002, a few years later they met again then got married the year 2008. Then she conceives 2004,I think you meant 2014. Edit that maybe.

Telling a person who has lost a loved one “it is well” doesn’t make sense to them. Their heart screams it is not well and it will never get well and there’s alot of why me God! Why make an example of me? I get him. Went through the same motions when I lost my husband.

Read this in a mat, bad choice. Couldn’t stop sniffing and wiping off tears such that the guy next asked if am ok. Told him I am, only I am reading a sad story narrated in a deep beautiful way. Reminded me of the phrase, “Nobody really dies a virgin coz’ life f***s us all.”

Jackson Biko pain has no boundaries. I sometimes compare it to this phenomenon called faith..it begins where reasoning stops. When we try to dissect pain and the threshold that a human can fathom, we get to that point of pain I christened as “Faith”.. it passes all understanding and for the duke of gatanga, there is a realm that even he cannot describe. Great write as always.

Hi,quite painful but though we have to move on.I lost my hubby when we had our first born gal,almost immediately my hubby got a road accident but fortunately he didn’t die instant,it took quite sometime then he let us,the pain of flooding someone you love descent erase easily,it has taken 7years but I can tell the wound is fresh but as humanbeing we must move on.kindly add me in that group,the widor/widowers,cell;+254723274786,

(Better late than never)
Come to believe that at some point if we suffered pain, serendipity in turn comes to pay and wash away the tears. We may fail to realize because not every pay is worth the tussle.

I didn’t cry… I couldn’t… But that’s the worst part. This story is now etched in my heart and mind and forever in my memory, this is not the end of it, I’m sure. The tears have got to flow otherwise I’ll b a wreck on ‘those days.

“Appreciate what you have when you have it,” he tells Ronnie. “Anyone can go at any time, without warning, so appreciate anything and everything and let them know. Say you love them, show them that you genuinely love them, appreciation is very important.”

Life in whatever it throws to you as long as you breathing you have to look for hope in the deeper darker areas keep assuring yourself that tomorrow will be different above all HOPE keeps us alive and the fact that u know things will get better not today or tomorrow but maybe even next year. Currently look for what makes you smile and hold to that.

Aii Biko, a touch of happy ending next time please. Yani I read this from first paragraph and I just knew it portended something bad, either the wife dying or the kids. I even feared might be the Duke only he was the narrator. Prove us wrong next time bana. Yani iwe against all odds, someone made it to a happy ending. An uplifting storo for old times sake at least jo! Moja tu. But pole sana for the Duke. Good thing you are back up to your feet. And thumbs up to that great pal you have

I am in a mat to sum dusty village bordering mbeere and ukambani.. And this lady seated next to me is wondering . ..why this guy in a suit is reading so seriously, then start tearing up.. Niko na running nose..it making it worse.. So I am literally crying n the tears won’t stop.. I can’t remember the last time I cried ..must have been a buddy’s funeral way back…she is asking kama Niko mazuri..she must be guessing I have received sum bad news…dem. Its a beautiful ugly world… This worse that “there were birds.. And they didn’t sing”

“Appreciate what you have when you have it. Anyone can go at any time, without warning, so appreciate anything and everything and let them know. Say you love them, show them that you genuinely love them, appreciation is very important.”

It’s never easy, it’s not easy and it will never be easy loosing a loved one, i lost my close cousin more of a brother to me , my grandmother and my nephew in a span of a month it was the darkest time of my life its about 4 years now and the pain is still fresh like it happened yesterday.
I miss them everyday life is not the same without them but we have to move one , one step at a time. #peace

“Appreciate what you have when you have it. Anyone can go at any time, without warning, so appreciate anything and everything and let them know. Say you love them, show them that you genuinely love them, appreciation is very important.”………………………how true!!!!

This Dude has gone through tough stuff. My wife and I struggled to get kids and the miscarriages were very hard. Thank God I did not lose her also, I adopted and also got our own. However, any health issue with kids can bring extreme scares!

Biko
Am a big fan of sad but happy too because the presence of either makes is appreciate the absence of the other.
But I always have faith in the resilience of man.
Still crying.
Duke of Gatanga…be blessed.

All teary. I remember when I lost my girl, I never thought I will ever wake up another day and face the world. It was more than empty, lifeless. I felt like the world has been burnt to ashes and I was the only survivor. But God has been good, today I can afford to smile and sometimes laugh or even cry. Appreciate whatever you have whole you still have it because you never know when the creator decides to call them home.

I knew Betty,She was a special angel. Im glad David has found tune in this meaningless song coz there is no explaining why? Thanks David for being brave to share, it has answered so many questions we couldn’t ask

Lakini ebu edit kidogo bwana Biko. They could not have gone for another procedure in June 2004, maybe you meant 2014. Because you tell us David slid a ring on it on 30 May 2008. They possibly could not have been trying for a baby before their wedding.

Otherwise, heart wrenching story. Serious lessons learnt. huyu ndiye mwanaume. Indeed appreciate who you have around you and what you have

“It’s well….” How do you know it’s well. I don’t know how to comfort somebody incase of loss, maybe I will just be there and literary offer a should to cry on while I pat your back to make sure you cry out all the pain and grief.

Sad story..
As I read, I said “Sounds familiar!”
Then I recalled Victoria’s Lounge..where she was interviewing widowers.
I think David is very strong. How does one go on after all that?
My conclusion when we face grief, is that this world with all it’s separation, pain asnd sorrow is temporary. Let’s make it count by trusting God even when we don’t understand.
God is no robber. David will marry and have children, at least three to take the place of the three that God has with Him in heaven.

I have cried so much reading this… I too can relate with the childlessness part, its been 3 years of trying and waiting upon God… i have had a miscarriage, it was early on even before it could show… only family and a few friends learnt about it.. the questions, they get harder especially when everyone who got married after you has a kid, the longing when you see someone holding a baby… or the pain you feel when suddenly everyone in church, workplace is getting pregnant like it was some flu that you are immune to… I hold on to the faith that as God did it for Sarah and Hannah.. i too will carry my child.
I Pray that God will continue comforting the Duke of Gatanga… and give him peace that surpasses human understanding.

These bruises, make for better conversations. Though sometimes out of this world and utterly crippling, that we can never understand nature’s course in our lives, sitting down and letting God take control is the ultimate decision to let loose and let go. What else to do. Take heart, David. Damn!

……………….David and their eyes lock momentarily and David sees something in the man’s eyes, and suddenly he feels his whole world crack under his feet and he just knows.

His wife is dead. The realisation is short and heavy and intense and it grabs his throat, cutting off air. His wife is gone. Gone with the beautiful gap between her teeth. Gone with her wonderful laughter.

I was genuinely overjoyed when I read about the triplets. Seated with my wife at a children’s clinic at Doctor’s Plaza, I even started telling her this story that has such a happy ending. Little did I know that moments later, my heart would be so badly broken . I sympathise and stand with the ‘Duke of Gatanga’. I wish him well in his future endeavours.

“Appreciate what you have when you have it,” he tells Ronnie. “Anyone can go at any time, without warning, so appreciate anything and everything and let them know. Say you love them, show them that you genuinely love them, appreciation is very important.”

I have really cried reading this story. Soo sad after waiting many years and praying for safe delivery. Duke of Gatanga may the lord bless you and keep you give you so much joy for the rest of your life. Biko thank you for yet another story.

As i read, it was like in a movie i could create the scene back in my head!! I have learnt a lot, no matter what we face we got to move on thanking God for all!! Everything happens with (for) a reason!

… I had invited him to sit in the interview later, to see how the sausage is made … I’ve never heard of this expression … maybe how the cookie crumbles …? A truely sad story but very well told: you have a sense of humour … Duke of Gatanga … 🙂 and a way of holding me captive until the end.

I became a widower at the age of 35……road traffic accident. Life has never been the same again. But yes….it gets a little easier every passing day…..courtesy of a very loving family. I salute the Duke…keep strong man!

woaaa at some point ,atear dropped as I imagined the amount of grief that hit Mr Dukes heart,no amount of words can strap off such pain,its aprocess #”Duke of Gatanga”,,,,
love your creativity and captivity of every moment Biko…thanks

”I can hear the wind blow
I can hear the screams and cries
Slamming doors, running for cover
Praying this rage goes by
Now everything we’ve worked for
It’s gone in a moments glance
I need something to believe
I need a second change

“Appreciate what you have when you have it,”…….This has moved me. It has made me get out of the office, get some niceties, and go home to make a reconciliation with the Missus after days of misunderstandings. We are expecting twins in a few weeks, and Duke’s experience is an eye opener to what is important.

Biko, thank you for this… “Why am I fascinated by these stories of pain and grief, I have been asked many times. I think it’s because I want to know how far down a human being can plunge, how below rock bottom we can go before we rise again. I want a glimpse at the fighting spirit of man. I want to be assured that whatever shit life throws our way, we can rise, we can triumph. I want to see humans rise and triumph.” As Always, good read.

I love stories of triumph over grief and adversity. Duke of Gatanga, you are the embodiment of strength. I wish you well.

It is one thing to wait for 8 years without baring any fruits. But it is something utterly big to wait for 8 years, be blessed with Triplets, wait another 9 months for you to hold them and then they disappear in a matter of 8 minutes.

I have shed a thousand tears. No one can prepare you for death and the immense loss and pain that comes with it. You can only continue to wake up each day determined to make it better than yesterday.
Duke of Gatanga may restoration be your second name.

‘They were buried in the same coffin. One child was placed on his wife’s chest and the other two in the crook of each arm. Sleep tight, angels.’
So heart wrenching……May God give you strength Duke of Gatanga…

This story is so touching……. It’s more of a feeling than just a mere piece…. Duke of Gatanga…. I won’t say that there are people who have been through worse than this ….. Each and everyone’s pain is known by the person himself ….. Each human knows what weight his fate caries but still we have to carry on …..

You know I keep off sad stories because they open the floodgates of my own sad boxes. Suppressed memories of loss, may be not as extreme as David’s but loss is loss right? Just like love is love. The weirdest part is knowing that facts won’t go away but still having that deep sadness threatening to devour your soul. The scariest part is as long as we are living and we have people we love, there is so much more we could lose. I pray to God that life is kind to us,that we don’t lose EVERYTHING we hold dear beacause is there coming back from that?

I stopped reading several times, but then I kept coming back till I got to the end of it. It didn’t stop my tears. May the Duke, and others going through such horrible grief, find peace. Biko, your written acumen is exceptional.

I abandoned this article more than once because I couldn’t bear it, but I kept coming back until I read to the end. I pray for peace for the Duke and others going through such terrible heartbreak. Biko, your writing acumen is exceptional.

Wow Biko! Great piece and very emotional…… It is sad that this man had to endure this kind of cross. Life has taught me that there are things that God does that You and I cannot even begin to comprehend… I guesa we shall understand someday… I am glad that this man is on the path to healing and that he had people who loved and cared for him during the difficult time… Such friends are few… Happy that he shared this story…. Thanks

Why did the rescuers spend time on CPR at home??????….that is not standard practice. Our health systems and emergency medicine has a looooooong way to go. ….i cannot help but think that the triplets had a goood chance of survival if the system was efficient enough. Emergency c-section(in the ambulance ) might have made all the difference.

I was so stoked( beendying to use this word) that finally you had a happy ever after story. But nooooo, another tear jacker. It is harder when it is a man that gets torn down and so much harder when tois are involved. Great Sad piece, sigh

I have cried and cried and cried. This is such a sad story. Took me three days to reach the end…Was kinda hoping for some surprise about Betty and the kids at some point. May their souls rest in eternal peace.

Troubles and yearnings people go through to get babies, personally I don’t need kids in my life; colleagues and friends ask why did you work so hard to be a doctor then ?…..maybe it eternally satisfies me that way. He will be well, the most painful thing is to find solace in despair,attain or die exhausted in the endeavor.

When i started reading the story i remembered a promise someone made me and i took a screenshot hoping to share the link and photo with him, but reading further, the pain that shadows duke’s life strips the urge to share the photo and it dresses me in fear.The most normal of occurences can invite tragedy into your life. My heart goes out to him and his family.
I hope it gets to a point he appreciates the chance he had to walk through this life’s challenges with a woman he loved and celebrates her life more than he griefs. I hope he gets a second chance to be a dad again. Maingi is a hero,cheers!

“Appreciate what you have when you have it,” he tells Ronnie. “Anyone can go at any time, without warning, so appreciate anything and everything and let them know. Say you love them, show them that you genuinely love them, appreciation is very important.”

this is a powerful statement from a man who has tasted grief. I’m glad that he’s slowly finding his feet again.

Great writing as always, and a sad story. I am from Gatanga, and I stand with the duke. Major loss, but am glad that he can now tell the story and is living again. Give flowers now, when the recipients can see and smell them, and not a truck load, when they are gone. I question God too…

Wow that’s deep yaani how I was all smiles at the beginning of the story. That’s one tough guy I hope he does find peace and love he deserves it .Biko….nice read as always
How can one collect the book from your office ….asking for a friend

Biko..
Thanks for the explanation on why you do these tear jerkers…Ive always wondered.. I wept almost all through.

Oh how we take the gift of babies for granted sometimes!

Thanks for telling this in a way only you can. We are neighbour’s of Betty’s brother and his family.. and I can’t begin to explain the sadness that was witnessed.
May Betty and the beautiful children RIP with the angels.
May you find happiness again Duke.
Blessings.

A very touching story. My heart was literary crying while reading the sad part.But am glad has learned how to cope with the loss. There is hope at the end of the tunnel.
‘It doesnt get better, it gets easier to handle the loss’, I like that.
Thankyou for sharing this story

These days I read such stories, books and watch as many gut wrenching films as I can because I want to be prepared, I want to be desentisized. Deep down I know one can never be prepared enough for when death creeps up and snatches your loved ones. I dread the day it happens, I don’t think I’ll survive it.

It is sad for a man to lose a child but it is very sad for a man to lose his wife and children, the pain is very hard to bear. Despite the kind of questions we ask God during these times he still our refuge through friends like Peter Maingi.

I’ve cried like a baby. Biko i want to invite you to Rwanda. People here have seen pain and Grief of the lowest levels…..but also experienced triumphs. Something tells me you’d craft an amazing piece to share with your fans. Keep up the good work.

Biko…The moment you said God was not done and gave them 3 instead of 1, I knew this was the beginning of madness. All I have is empathy for the Duke of Gatanga. This is not only a crush but a huge blast. It is true, we never really know what God has in store for us. we could choose blame, lament, and anger or we could accept his will and let the pain heal. The same God who took them will replenish you with more than you expected. Keep the faith, Keep the trust. It shall be well